


Artistic Inspiration

by A_simple_lee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, SPN - Freeform, Soulmate AU, Supernatural - Freeform, Tickle fic, Tickling, Ticklish!Dean, ticklish!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:27:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_simple_lee/pseuds/A_simple_lee
Summary: Cas probably shouldn’t have told his soulmate he was ticklish. Silly drawing antics ensue. Although I do not in fact write for the Soulmate AU, I was so happy to receive this request bc it’s absolutely one of my favourite AU’s ever, and I’d been hoping to write it for a while! I wasn’t sure exactly which Soulmate AU was referred to in this prompt, since there are a bunch of different ones, but I went with the classic one where soulmates are linked through their skin, and whatever is drawn on their skin also appears on their soulmate’s skin.





	Artistic Inspiration

It had first started when Dean was in secondary school. His teacher was attempting to somehow excite interest in a bunch of teens who couldn’t possibly care less about trying to find the solutions of simultaneous equations, and Dean was barely awake. Somehow the pen that was supposed to be taking notes had drifted to the inside of his wrist, where it was tracing the beginnings of a small doodle. Dean glanced down at the ink flooding onto his skin and squinted in concentration, joining the last two points. There. A tiny star. Some miniscule whisper in the back of his mind scolded him for drawing on his skin; from a young age it was strongly discouraged that children draw on their arms, lest their soulmate reply - that sort of bond wasn’t meant to be formed until later in life.

But Dean had had enough. After all, it didn’t exactly feel like he was ruining fate’s plans; there was no sense of foreboding, no guilt burning in his blood. None of this seemed wrong. It just felt like the nib of a pen pressing on his skin.

…Wait a minute.

He wasn’t drawing.

His breathing stilted for a moment, air seeming to catch in the space between his throat and chest. Eyes turned to the ceiling, he tried to find where the oxygen in the air had gone. There wasn’t any. Against his will, his gaze drifted to where he’d drawn the star.

A single planet orbited it. The ink was blue, written in fountain pen.

Hand fumbling over the maze of his desk, Dean grabbed his biro. His mouth found the end and chewed as his mind raced. What do you say to the person you’re supposed to spend eternity with?

_Bored._

He could’ve rolled his eyes at the stupidity of it. But it was all he could think to write.

A wave of cobalt swept over his wrist, forming a letter. Rapt, Dean watched in unbridled curiosity as the reply took shape.

_Same._

Dean grinned. Glancing at the teacher to check they were still occupied, his pen returned to his skin.

_I’m Dean. You?_

_Castiel. But Cas is easier._

At the front of the classroom, the teacher’s whiteboard pen stopped squeaking as they turned to the students.

“And…that’s the solution. Everybody got that?”

 

 

Six years later, and Cas was propping his head up over a med textbook. He couldn’t fathom why he’d wanted to choose one of the most tedious majors in existence, yet for some reason he felt himself driven to study. At one am. On a monday night. Technically tuesday morning, Cas reasoned to himself with a note of hysteria. The college library wasn’t completely empty; a few solitary students were hunched over their notes as if they held universal secrets, clearly cramming for tests. Cas winced out of sympathy - his phone buzzed, and his hand reached out to dismiss it in a frustrated swipe. He tugged on his sweater sleeves and rubbed his eyes, too exhausted to try to memorize any more diagrams of the human Endocrine system. Picking up his pen with a huff, he attempted to make some more notes.

Yet when he found his hand drifted to his skin instead, Castiel didn’t mind. His eyes widened when he saw he’d already been left a message.

_You awake?_

He quickly scribbled out a response.

_Sorry. I didn’t notice the writing. I am awake. Why are you?_

_I dunno. Couldn’t sleep, or something._

_Dean, you make no sense._

_Right back at ya. Why are YOU awake?_

A small huff of a laugh juddered out of Cas as he shook his head. A girl at the desk working over her calculator gave him an odd look.

_Revision._

_Need some help?_

_No. Too tired._

_Why don’t we play a game, then? Keep you awake._

_Dean, I don’t-_

His message was cut short when Dean scribbled over the ‘don’t’ he was writing.

_Just say yes, I’m trying to help here._

_Fine._

_Ok. I’m gonna draw on you and you gotta write the scientific name of the body part on your wrist._

_Dean, that sounds like it could-_

_No. I’m just trying to help you study, is all. Chill._

_Ok._

Cas planted his head firmly on the desk in a gesture of exasperation. There was a slight pause as he waited for something to happen. He flinched when the familiar pressure of Dean’s biro scraped over the inside of his upper arm, tracing a tiny line. Eyes scrunching as the pen suddenly changed course in an erratic jerk, his hand quickly scribbled the name out onto his wrist.

_Bicep Brachii._

The writing halted for a moment as Dean seemed to consider Castiel’s answer. A few more seconds passed before his scrawled capitals appeared next to Cas’ cursive.

_Sounds right. I just wanna finish the drawing, then I’ll do the next one._

_Whatever you say, Da Vinci._

_Shut up._

The seconds where the pen transitioned from Cas’ wrist to his inner arm seemed to carry an air of indignation. The med student felt his arm twitch against his will as the ink made touchdown on his skin again, continuing to make seemingly random lines. He tried to trace their paths in his mind, attempting a sort of mental join-the-dots; but it was becoming increasingly hard to concentrate on forming an image when the doodle seemed to be encroaching further and further up his arm. A slight quirk of his lips tried to pull itself into a reflexive smile as the trailing lines suddenly became quick pokes; Cas felt random ink dots being prodded and squiggled into his arm. He reached for his pen.

_Ok, that’s enough. Can we move on?_

_Why?_

_It tickles._

_You didn’t tell me you were ticklish._

Castiel regretted the decision immediately - the feeling of a pen trailing up towards his armpit had him clamping his arms to his torso, trying to keep his composure in the middle of a library.

_Stop!! I’m in the library!_

Much to his relief, the pen nib ceased its torture.

_Alright, you dork._

_Shut up._

_Only if you go home and get some sleep._

He rolled his eyes, reluctantly sliding his textbook into his satchel.

_Fine. Good night._

_Good night._

 

 

A concerning groan sounded from the car as Dean made what felt like the thousandth tightening with his spanner. The impala juddered worryingly, and Dean groaned, wheeling his way out from underneath the car for a lunch break.

_Hello, Dean._

Cas’ writing was a welcome distraction from the frustration of car fixing, Dean decided. He grabbed his pen and began scrawling a response on his way to the kitchen.

_Hey, Cas._

Sam was sat at the table, two sandwiches in front of him.

“How’s the break from college goin’, Sam?”

His brother groaned, sliding a sandwich to Dean, who took it and sat down, leaving it untouched for a minute.

“Uneventful. Jess and I have been writing to one another,” he paused, gesturing to his ink-covered arm. “but everybody else is just kind of taking a breather for the weekend.”

“Huh. Well, Baby’s not holding up too well. I’m gonna have to grab a couple new parts for her sometime-”

_I didn’t appreciate your torture yesterday._

Dean spluttered, shaking his head with a grin.

“Cas, you son of a b*tch.”

Sam had since learned better than to question his brother’s conversations with his soulmate, and went back to eating his lunch.

_It wasn’t torture, Cas._

_You try being quiet in the library when someone is tickling you._

_Nice try, but I ain’t ticklish._

_Really?_

_Nope. Not at-_

A brief scribble under his arm caused him to recoil, words dying on his skin as his pen trailed into a jerky sort of flatline.

“Dude, you ok?” Sam was giving him a questioning look.

“U-uh yeah, Cas is just being a b*tch, is all” He remarked, before slamming his hands down on the table when something scrawled over his side.

“You sure?”

 _Cas, you’re so weird. Stop._ His handwriting was stilted and shaky despite his efforts to remain unaffected by the pen scratching under his ribs.

“Dean, you are such a liar.” The older WInchester had failed to notice six foot four of brother behind him, reading the conversation on his arm. Before Dean could protest, Sam grabbed his arm and wrote a message to his soulmate.

_Don’t listen to him. He’s lying about not being ticklish._

_Thank you, Sam (?)_

Dean snatched his hand back, rubbing at the ink in a vain attempt to erase it. A slight giggle escaped from his lips as Cas moved his focus to his tummy.

_Dammit, Cas! Stop!_

_I need to finish my drawing._

He sighed in annoyance, eyes pivoting to the ceiling in a plea to the Heavens before glancing back down and lifting his shirt slightly. A small galaxy was dotting its way over his torso, stars and planets floating in the gaps between his freckles. His head lowered to the table in resignation. It was going to be a while before Cas was finished.

 

 

“Dude, where is your beer?” Gabriel’s head emerged from the kitchen doorway, and Cas looked up from his position in front of the TV to give a vague gesture.

“Second shelf, fridge door.” The loading screen of the WiiU didn’t seem to be moving much. It was one of the occasional times where Cas found himself visited by a brother, normally to play outdated video games and chat about college over beer. To call the experience enjoyable was far from the truth; people meant visits, and visits meant cleaning, which meant trying to convince others through the state of your living space that you were, in fact, mentally stable. Not to say that Cas didn’t appreciate Gabriel’s presence, per se; in fact he found the snarky blonde one of his more bearable relatives.

Cas’s train of thought was interrupted when the familiar scratching of Dean’s handwriting appeared on the back of his hand.

_Hey._

_Hello, Dean._

“Talking with lover boy again, are we?” The couch cushions sank as Gabriel plonked himself next to Cas, placing a couple bottles of beer on the table. Cas grunted in acknowledgement, too busy reading Dean’s forming words to reply.

_You know, Cas, I forgot to get you back for embarrassing me yesterday._

_You wouldn’t. My brother’s here._

_Great! He’ll probably help me figure out your ticklish spots._

_Please don’t._

 

The pillow resting under Dean’s chin shifted as he turned behind him to face Charlie, rucked up plaid shirt obscuring his vision as she stood beside his bare back.

“You know it’ll take a while to wash off, right? It’s some expensive ink.”

“Worth it,” He grinned. Charlie shrugged, grabbing her ink pot and a small paintbrush.

“He’s going to hate you for this,” The redhead’s smile was full of mischief as she sat down over the lower part of her friend’s back.

“Oh, I know. I know.” Dean grabbed the pen lying next to his hand to write a quick reply to Cas.

_Sorry, no can do. Charlie needs to practise her body painting._

_DEAN-_

Cas’ heart rate shot up, and he turned to Gabriel, eyes wide.

“U-uh, Gabriel, I know you just got here-”

“Something the matter, Cassie?”

“N-not really - yes - it’s complicated.”

“What’s he been saying to you?” Eyebrows furrowed, Gabriel seized his wrist, a wicked grin swiftly overtaking his features. Cas ducked his head, heat rushing to his face.

“Oh, I see~” Gabriel purred, eyes alight with mischief.

“No, Gabriel, it’s not what it looks like-” Suddenly he clamped both hands over his mouth, frame jolting in a reflexive twitch.

“Then, pray tell, ticklish baby bro, what is it?” But the person in question was curled up on the couch, streams of giggles flowing from his mouth as his body flailed in an attempt to stop an invisible tickler.

“Shehe’s pahahainting on my bahack! Mahahahake him stop!”

“Now why would I do that? His friend needs to practice!”

A snort punctuated Cas’ hysterics, and Gabriel paused to laugh at his spectacle of a brother before whipping out a pen and leaving a message for Dean.

 

“Dammit-” Dean suppressed a grin as Charlie’s paintbrush swirled over the dip in his spine.

“Aww, whassa matter, Dean-o? Ticklish?”

“Shuhut up, this is worth it.”

“If you say so.” He could feel the smugness radiating from Charlie but didn’t have the resolve to snark at her without dissolving into giggles. With a note of hysteria, he wondered how Cas was holding up. Pressure on his right arm made him glance down.

_Wow, Dean-o, going in for the kill already?_

_Dean frowned at the comic sans-esque writing._

_Gabriel? How do you mean?_

_Dude, his back is a major tickle spot. He can’t stand it._

_A smirk overtook his features._

_Lucky guess, I suppose._

 

Cas shrieked as the brushstrokes reached his shoulder blades, back contorting in the hopes of stopping the feeling of the ink being swished and dotted in playful swirls over his skin.

“Yikes, Cassie, you sound a little tense.”

“Gahahabe, no!”

“Lemme help you relax a bit.” With that, the elder sat over Cas’ hips, tippling his fingers over his brother’s sides as an experiment.

“Ahahaha, plehehehease!” Cas shook his head, dark hair beyond messy as he tried to escape the torment.

“Please what? Carry on? Sure.”

Cas had heard about Charlie before, and she’d sounded nice enough. Yet for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to think of her favourably any more, not with the downright sadistic painting technique. Each and every stroke took a detour, dragging out the tickling to its fullest before the brush lifted for only a few seconds before touching down on another area of his back to wreak havoc with a new style of brushwork, switching from broad sweeps to brief flicks and dabs. It was maddening.

“Nahahahaha!” His hysterics quickly became interspersed with more snorts, and Gabriel paused his torture to laugh at Cas.

“Are you kidding? Snorts? This is too adorable.”

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhup, Gahahabriel!”

“Telling me to shut up? In your position, Cassie? You’re gonna pay for that.”

Gabriel swiftly returned to pinching up and down his brother’s sides, taking delight in the childish giggles that resulted.

 

“You okay there?” Charlie’s voice was tainted with mirth; she was enjoying herself way too much, Dean thought. He suppressed a flinch, and nodded, jaw tense.

“I-i’m good. How muhuch longer?”

“Almost done.” She replied, a wolfish grin taking shape as she flicked over a dimple at the bottom of Dean’s spine.

“I swear, you’re going down after this, Bradbury.”

“I’d watch your step, Winchester. You’re in no place to be making threats. And it’s Queen Bradbury to you.”

Dean groaned into the couch cushion. The next few minutes would feel like forever.

 

“Aahahaha, Gabrihihiel, plehehehehease stahahahahap!”

“Bingo-bango! He speaks! For a moment there I thought you’d turned into a giggle machine, Cassanova!” Gabriel watched with amusement as Cas’ cheeks flushed a darker shade of red at the teasing.

“Ihihih’m nohohot a chihihihild! Plehehehease!”

“Hmmm,” He paused, feigning deliberation as he raised a hand to his chin. “Methinks it’s time for an attitude adjustment, no?”

“GABRIEL NO!” Cas marvelled at the fact the plea managed to make its way out in between laughs.

“More like, Gabriel, yes! Now where was that big bright red tickle button of yours? Yknow, the ones that have ‘do not push’ written on them in capitals?”

“PLEASE DON’T!” The younger Novak kicked his legs against the couch in desperation, dreading the oncoming assault.

“Ah, that’s right!” Gabriel halted, quickly snaking his hands up under Cas’ arms. “There they are!” His fingers wriggled in tandem, a smirk lighting up his features as his brother’s arms immediately clamped to their adjoining torso.

“NAHAHAHAHA!” Cas shut his eyes, the conflicting feelings too much to bear as his nervous system was overloaded with the signals from his heightened nerves. Unmitigated laughter bounced against the walls as he struggled to get free, words escaping his grasp as the tickling became too much. Within seconds, his laughter fell silent, and Cas was reduced to nothing more than a helpless, giggling puddle.

His sibling quickly withdrew his hands, watching as Cas slowly regained some coherency. Eventually, the hysterics subsided into a more controlled flow of giggles, and Castiel curled up into a fetal position, riding out the remainder of the tickle attack by himself.

At long last, Charlie’s work appeared to have come to a halt. Cas lay breathing heavily for a few seconds to regain precious oxygen before cautiously reaching for his pen, ignoring Gabriel’s snide remark about his ‘ridiculous ticklishness’.

_I hate you._

_No you don’t, Cas._

 

Dean smiled at the ire seeping from Cas’ message before sitting up and turning to Charlie, careful not to let any wet ink on his skin touch the back of the couch.

“You think he’ll like it?” He huffed. Charlie nodded from beside him.

“It might get you out of any potential repercussions. Maybe.”

“I’ll take maybe over going through that again,” Dean grinned, elbowing Charlie when she reached up to ruffle his hair. His pen drifted to his wrist to elaborate.

_...No you don’t, Cas. Look in the mirror._

 

The door to his bathroom swung open, and Cas stepped onto the tiled floor hesitantly, smooth stone feeling cold against his bare feet. Gabriel followed, and the pair stood in front of the mirror above the sink.

“Well, are you gonna see what it is?” He pushed, nudging Castiel in the shoulder. The latter rolled his eyes, and pulled off his ACDC shirt with a huff that was promptly cut off when the ink was revealed. Cas turned in front of the mirror, trying to get a better view of his own back.

“Wow, little bro. That’s a nice tattoo you got there.”

“I suppose Charlie’s practice may have payed off,” Cas admitted begrudgingly, staring awestruck at the masterpiece that had been traced onto his skin. A pair of black-tinged wings rested unfurled on his back, feathers branching out over his back and crossing onto the backs of his arms in places. He stretched, watching as the drawing shifted with his movements - the wings seemed have their own mind, branching out in synchronisation with his body. Cas fumbled for his pen.

_…Thank you. I…suppose this warrants a truce?_

“Dean Winchester, you're a class-A Dork.” Charlie muttered, unable to fight back a grin as she watched their conversation on his skin. They were stood in front of the mirror in the corner, admiring her artistry and waiting for the ink to dry.

“Shut up, nerd.” He teased, wings opening as he reached for his pen.

_Sure, Cas. Truce._


End file.
